


Beeline

by skivvysupreme



Category: Glee
Genre: Early Days, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivvysupreme/pseuds/skivvysupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy summer shenanigans don't go quite as expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beeline

**Author's Note:**

> Set between seasons 2 and 3! 
> 
> sassyblaien (tumblr) prompted: "anything to do with blaine's butt pls"

Kurt tries not to objectify his boyfriend. Honestly. He does.

But Blaine’s wiggling around near-naked in Kurt’s full-length mirror, turning this way and that, trying to get a look at his own ass in his brand new, bright red swim shorts.

Though, really, they can hardly classify as shorts, Kurt muses, watching Blaine from his bed. They hug the round curve tightly and end a couple inches down from the tops of Blaine’s thick thighs, quite literally leaving no room to the imagination.

Blaine says something, probably, but Kurt can’t take his eyes off Blaine’s fingers where they slide under the hems and tug the fabric away from his body. Then Blaine cups his cheeks and turns to the other side, putting himself in profile, and Kurt discreetly crosses his legs where he sits on his bed.

“Kurt?”

Blaine’s crotch turns to face him, and boy, that _no hands traveling south of the equator_ rule they established at the beginning of the summer is looking pretty stupid right about now—

“Kurt.”

Maybe Kurt’s mouth could snag a work visa?

“Kurt!”

“Hmm?” Kurt blinks up at Blaine as innocently as he can and smooths his hands down his gray shorts. He never would have thought that looking Blaine in his beautiful eyes would be difficult, but the struggle to not glance down is so real that Kurt’s starting to think this whole pool party was a mistake.

Blaine shyly crosses his arms over himself and mumbles, “They look ridiculous, don’t they? They’re too short.”  

“No, Blaine, not at all. You look amazing. More than amazing, in fact.”

“Oh… really?” Blaine relaxes his posture, letting his arms fall to his sides as he cocks a hip.

“Really.”

“Aw, thank you!” Blaine shrugs. “After the last pantsing rampage, I wanted something a little less loose. I figured Puck wouldn’t want to go there.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at the mention of “Puckasaurus’ Pool Party Pantsing,” as Puck calls his uncomfortable new hobby. Over the course of the summer, he’s managed to get every boy’s shorts down except Artie’s, Mike’s, and Kurt’s; he’s afraid of drowning Artie in his floating pool chair, Mike has the reflexes of a cobra, and Kurt always manages to slip inside whoever’s house they’re at before Puck can get started. Unfortunately, this means that all of Kurt’s friends have seen his boyfriend’s ass, and he hasn’t.

“I think you’re safe in those shorts,” Kurt says. “From Puck, at least.” He levels Blaine with a steady stare, chancing one swift, obvious glance down his body before he loses his nerve. It’s a bold comment, but Kurt’s getting more confident about things like this. Knowing that Blaine allows his attraction, welcomes it, reciprocates it—and will _eventually_ do something with it—frees him.

Blaine blushes and ducks his head, grinning off to the side the way he did when they first kissed. “Kurt…”

Doubt drops the coy, crooked smile off Kurt’s face. “Was that weird? Forget I said that.”

“No, no, I’m…” Blaine pulls Kurt up from his bed, then turns and walks to the door. “You can pants me whenever you want, sweetheart,” Blaine says with a wink over his shoulder. He swings his hips on his way out of the room, trusting that Kurt will watch his ass as he goes.

Kurt does.

*****

All day, Kurt’s had thoughts of where his and Blaine’s evening might go once the party starts to wind down… but this isn’t what he envisioned.

Blaine’s whining into Kurt’s mattress, bent over on his knees with his ass in the air. His hair is still wet from the pool and dripping on the comforter.

“Shhh, you’re okay, I’m pulling it out now.”

“Kurt…”

“Don’t move.” Kurt has one hand squeezing Blaine’s hip, which is still covered by those bright red shorts. The other has a firm grip on a pair of tweezers and hovers over the stinger currently lodged in Blaine’s right cheek. “Jesus, that was the biggest bee I’ve ever seen. How the hell did it poke through your shorts?”

“Maybe it was a wasp,” Blaine sighs. He hadn’t realized what happened until he sat on the lounge chair next to Kurt’s and accidentally pushed the stinger in deeper. When he jolted off the chair, screaming, Kurt spotted the bee—wasp?—as it detached from the stinger and fell onto the chair.

It has occurred to Kurt that they are breaking the equator rule, that he is getting up close and personal with Blaine’s ass right now, but this is an emergency. This is not the time.

The tweezers close around the tip of the stinger, and Kurt gently pulls it out, taking care not to pinch too hard, as the Internet instructed. “Okay, honey, it’s out. Now we just have to treat the—um, the area.”

Blaine, wide-eyed, looks back at Kurt. “You mean…?” He reaches back and grazes a hand over his hip for emphasis.

“Do you want to do it? Or… do you mind if I…” Kurt nods towards the glass of ice cubes and bottle of calamine lotion waiting on the nightstand next to the bed.

Blaine smiles and turns his face back to the mattress, resting his forehead on his arms. “Please, Kurt.”

Well. Okay.

Kurt pulls the waistband of Blaine’s shorts down, peeling the skintight fabric off the inflamed skin. He feels much calmer than he thought he would upon seeing his boyfriend’s bare ass for the first time. It has to be the circumstance, the fact that Blaine needs him, that’s giving him focus, but still, he can’t help the stream of _oh my god that’s his ass it’s naked that’s Blaine’s bare naked ass I’m touching oh my god oh my GOD_ that shoots through his head. He tucks the waistband in the nook where Blaine’s ass meets his thighs, and there it is, round and smooth-skinned except for that small, circular area on the right cheek that’s slightly red.

“All right?” Kurt asks, and Blaine responds that he is, so Kurt goes on, “It’s not really swollen, so I’m just going to ice it a little bit and then put the ointment on, okay?”

“Okay, Kurt.”

The ice cube slides around a little when it touches Blaine’s hot skin, but Kurt rubs it smoothly around the sting area and thinks, _This is not sexy. Some freakish, prehistoric monster bee attacked him. This not the time, this is not sexy._

_This is also not funny._

Lines of water start to drip down the curve on either side of the ice cube. Some slides over into Blaine’s crack, and he clenches his cheeks reflexively.

Kurt removes the ice cube, shifts in place a little, and thinks, _Oh no, this is extremely not funny._

“Um… it’s kind of itchy.”

“Oh, I’ve got you, hold on.” Kurt darts into his en-suite bathroom and comes back out with a large, square bandage. He rubs the calamine lotion over the sting area— _my fingers are on his ass, oh my god—_ and neatly places the bandage on top.

“Oh my god, that feels so much better already,” Blaine groans, twisting his hips a little. “Thank you, Kurt.”

“Of course, honey. Here, let me just…” Kurt slowly pulls the shorts back up to cover him, and then, in a giddy rush of inspiration, plants his hands on the bed on either side of Blaine’s body and presses a kiss to the small of his back. “Back north of the equator,” Kurt giggles, suddenly finding the whole situation absurd, and lies down next to him. “We can go back down to the party when it doesn’t sting quite so much.”

Blaine turns onto his side, careful to roll the opposite way from the sting to face Kurt.

“And your shorts worked, indirectly. Puck didn’t come after you this time.”

As soon as the words leave Kurt’s lips, there’s a wave of laughter and whistling from the party outside, and Mercedes very distinctly yells, “Go Tina!”

Kurt goes to investigate at his window.

“Did Puck get Mike?” Blaine asks, shaking his head.

“No. Tina got Puck,” Kurt says, then with a detached sort of voice like he’s watching a nature documentary, “I’ve never understood pantsing.”

“Well… non-consensual pantsing,” Blaine corrects flirtatiously, plucking his shorts so that the fabric makes a loud slap when it returns to his hip. He winces for a second, apparently unprepared for the throb that spreads across his stung ass.

Kurt gives a sympathetic little _aww_ and returns to the bed, curling close to Blaine and kissing his nose. “On second thought… Let’s just stay up here. There’s still plenty we can do above the waist, after all.”


End file.
